


The Gospel According to Crowley

by Jennifred



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Gen, My First Work in This Fandom, Pre-Slash, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25619407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennifred/pseuds/Jennifred
Summary: The life and times of Jesus - Messiah, Son of God, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Lamb of God, and Prince of Peace - according to one slithery demon who kept running into Him.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Jesus (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. Luke 2: 8 – 9

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first posted fanfic in years. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Note: all scripture quotes are from the King James Version on biblegateway.com

_8 And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night._

_9 And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid._

* * *

Crawly is posing as a shepherd when he runs into Aziraphale.

The young men who tend the flocks are delightfully easy to tempt into doing little sins. Sometimes it’s not even real sins, just minor vague annoyances that will lead other people to do the sinning. For instance, when their master gets stingy, Crawly idly floats the idea that dumping dye on the sheep would be a really good way to depreciate the value of wool, and he just so happens to know where he can find some very expensive dye to waste on such an endeavor.

The end result is a lot of very colorful sheep. One day, a couple thousand years from now, humans will invent tie-dye and Crowley will see it and think, _Yeah_ _. Those sheep were a good time._

The master finds out, as Crawly intended. He is understandably angry, also as Crawly intended. And instead of listening to the shepherds, the master decides to punish them by putting them all on the night shift. Not quite as Crawly intended, but he can work with it.

Greed, revenge, more greed, and now bitter resentment. It’s not a bad day’s work. Crawly thinks he can escalate things even more if he sticks around, which is why he is willing to put up with following the others to night shift. Tempting humans is a lot less work when they already consider you a friend.

Crawly twirls his standard issue crook around while he admires his handiwork. The colors look cooler in the moonlight. He particularly likes the one he did himself. It’s mostly purple. The master really should be thanking him for this one. Purple is an expensive color. This wool is probably worth more now than when it was a boring regular-colored sheep.

Then the sky splits apart.

Crawly hisses as Heavenly light bores into his eyes for the first time since he Fell. Angels descend upon Heaven in their true forms, terrifying and demented.* The angels hum out their grand declaration in smooth, celestial harmonies. Crawly remembers listening to celestial harmonies echo through Heaven, he even remembers joining in a few times, but he doesn’t remember them being so monotonous.

*Genesis doesn’t mention when wine was invented, but it must have been before angels. God had to have been drunk to think that many heads and that many wheels was a good idea.

The other shepherds cower with fear. A few even try to escape. Crawly decides to play this cool and pose as a traumatized, escaping shepherd before the angels realize there’s a demon in their midst. He has never been on the receiving end of a smiting, and he’s not keen on finding out what it’s like.

“Please don’t be afraid,” says a familiar voice. “I know they look frightening, but they’re here with Good News! Don’t run away. Oh, bother!”

Crawly watches his favorite angel watch one of the shepherds – he thinks it’s Dave, but it’s hard to tell with all the celestial light boring into the mortal realm – running into the hills. Aziraphale has chosen to appear in his human corporation rather than his true form. If it weren’t for the brilliant white wings – Crawly’s fingers twitch when he sees Aziraphale’s clumsy attempts at grooming – he could be mistaken for human.

“What’s this all about, angel?” He thinks the singing angels are too preoccupied to notice one man-shaped angel and one shepherd-shaped demon having a chat.*

*He’s right, of course. The angels are much too busy sharing their Good News and contemplating how human artists and writers will immortalize this moment.

Aziraphale turns. “Crawly! It’s so nice to see you!” He says it like they are old friends, like it’s been a weekend and not several decades since they last spoke. He spots the very much still purple sheep next to Crawly. Then he looks around at the other sheep and narrows his eyes. “Good Lord, my dear. What have you done?”

“What have I done?” Crawly waves his arms in the general direction of the angels, the direction being everywhere. “I was minding my own demonic business, spreading dissent and discord, when I got ambushed by the Heavenly Host!” This seemed more concise and important than explaining the ongoing conflict between the shepherds and their master.

“Oh! Haven’t you heard? I though the gossip would have reached downstairs by now.”

“Heard what?”

Aziraphale’s warm blue eyes shine, ethereal in the light of Heaven. “God has sent a son to Earth. The Messiah is here!”

This is bad news for Crawly, what with being a demon and all, but Aziraphale is beautiful and beaming. If the Messiah is responsible for bringing joy to the only angel worth Crawly’s time, then He’s got to be alright.

Since it wouldn’t be proper for him to say any of this, he says, “So what’s with the light show?”

“We have orders to spread the Good News to the common folk. It won’t do if only the kings and the learned know.” Aziraphale sighs as they watch his Heavenly brethren and the cowering shepherds. “I told them to go for something more subtle. It’s been too long since humans have seen angelic true forms.”

“Not sure if you’ve noticed, but your side doesn’t care much for subtle,” Crawly snorts.

“Like your side is any better,” Aziraphale retorts. “Purple sheep, my dear? Really?”

* * *

The next day is a weird one. The shepherds gather and take most of the morning to convince themselves last night wasn’t a dream. Some of them dismiss it as a dream. Others posit that it was wine, or some of those herbs people smoked to relax. And still, others suggest that they weren’t used to the night shift and got spooked shamefully easy.

One of his favorite things about humans is how willing they are to bend even the most extraordinary events to conform to their belief that the world is rational. He likes rationality. It turns away from Heaven while also denying Hell. It’s cool.

Sometimes they still get it wrong.

“It had to be angels! You saw all the heads! And the eyes! And the wings! So many wings!” bursts Dave. “Why are we just sitting around here? We were visited by angels and they gave us a message!”

Yeah. That was definitely Dave running away last night. Heaven would be pleased if they could see Dave right now. He’s got the appropriate amount of fear and awe.

Once Dave states the obvious, though, convincing the others is easier. Denial is a lot harder once the truth is out in the open.

Then things take a weird turn.

“We have to visit Him,” Dave declares. “Why else would they tell us? We were displeased with our master and then the angels told us where to find the King of Kings, master of us all. We are supposed to go to Him and offer ourselves to His service. Or something.”

Which is how Crawly finds himself being swept up in a half baked plan to ditch the master and get the newborn Messiah to … what, hire them? Grant them instant salvation?

* * *

Aziraphale is at the stable when they arrive a week later. His wings are tucked away again. He looks completely human. The divine energy hangs thick in the air and it makes Aziraphale radiant.

“Crawly? What are you doing here?”

“We come to pay homage to the Messiah, oh mighty angel.” Dave kneels before Aziraphale, apparently recognizing the angel. He’s become de facto leader of the shepherds by virtue of this all being his idea to begin with.

Aziraphale doesn’t even look at Dave, just glares at Crawly.

“What he said,” Crawly mumbles. He prays to … someone that no other angel or demon sees this. He would never live it down.

“In that case allow me to show you in,” Aziraphale smiles pleasantly. He steps aside from the door and gestures for them to enter. “Mind where you step.”

He may as well see his future enemy.

It really is a stable, with real livestock in the stalls not occupied by the Son of God and His family. A donkey brays in the stall next to the Messiah. Crawly wonders if God wanted it to go this way or if it was just sloppy planning.*

*He makes a mental note to mention this at the next staff meeting. Hell is sure to be able to plan better than this when the antichrist’s time comes.

The Christ Child is just that, a child. He’s a very small human wrapped up in cloth and watching all the people around Him, puzzled but pleased by all the attention He is getting. He’s got brown skin and dark hair, typical for people in this part of the world.

“Hello,” Crawly says. It’s the first time he’s spoken to God since the Fall. He wonders if he is going to be smote. “You’re going to make my life a lot harder, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale comes up behind him, a warm hand on him arm. “So what are you really doing here?”

Crawly casts a glance back to the shepherds. They coo eagerly over the child. There goes months of work down the drain.

There’s no reason to lie to Aziraphale now.

“I was spreading dissent and discord among these shepherds. Their master is a stingy bastard and I was having a fine time riling them all up.” Crawly nods toward the Messiah’s stall. “But then your side showed up and now they’ve got notions that they’re gonna swear fealty to the Messiah so He’ll deliver them from their troubles. Not even a year old and He’s already thwarting demonic activity.”

“Well that is His job,” Aziraphale remarks.

“Isn’t He allowed to be a kid first? What’s the point of sending down God Incarnate if not to better understand humanity?”

“Oh, that’s the plan. Give Him a proper human childhood,” Aziraphale agrees. “Of course, we’ll all be taking turns on guardian angel duty. Got to keep him safe from demonic influence, and the king isn’t please either.”

“Well, nobody like a usurper.” The last time Crawly sided with a usurper he was cast out of Heaven. “I suppose this means we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

“I suppose so! Do you have any restaurant recommendations? I’ve only returned to the area a few weeks ago and things have changed quite a bit in my absence.”

The other shepherds kneel and pray and nope, that’s Crawly’s sign. These young men are a lost cause. Time to leave. “Sure, angel. Find me when you’re off duty. I’ll give you the grand tour.”


	2. Luke 2: 42 – 43

_42 And when he was twelve years old, they went up to Jerusalem after the custom of the feast._

_43 And when they had fulfilled the days, as they returned, the child Jesus tarried behind in Jerusalem; and Joseph and his mother knew not of it._

* * *

Officially, Crawly is in Jerusalem for Passover. He likes the city this time of year, when people come from all over for festivities and fun. There are people everywhere, and there’s always something to do. Even if the holiday doesn’t change, the people do. There are so many wonderful ways to cause mischief. He finds ways to begin quarrels. There are always new and interesting ways to make the humans turn on each other, and he makes it a game with himself to see how many people he can ensnare in a single conflict.*

*His all time record is 132. Thirty or forty years ago he strongly suggested to an axle on a merchant’s cart that the perfect moment to snap apart was in the middle of a festival market. Damage to multiple merchants’ carts and wares, lots of bruised and angry shoppers, and every punch thrown was another point for Hell.

Unofficially, he is meeting Aziraphale for lunch, followed by an idle stroll through the city. Even if the cuisine is the same, festival food always has that extra flavor to it. Aziraphale says the humans have figured out how to bake their excitement into their food. Crawly thinks it’s the stress of trying to keep up with festival traffic.

That said, he could do without the general aura of holiness. It always engulfs the place this time of year, all the praying and giving thanks to God. In previous years it was like a fine mist, the kind that makes your skin feel a bit clammy, but you still walk out with dry clothes. These days it is more like a dense fog, the kind at the tops of mountains that’s thick and heavy, and obscures your vision until you can barely see and are afraid of taking a wrong step and walking right off.

He supposes that’s just how it was now. He doesn’t stand a chance at thwarting it all, but it is the ambition that counts at times like these. He is the only demon who ventures this far into the city this time of year, and that alone is enough to earn a commendation from downstairs. Even without the Messiah off wherever He is, there are more people than there used to be. More people means or holiness.

More people also means more people, a fact Crawly is reminded of when someone barrels into him from behind.

“Sorry, sir!”

Crawly whirls around to see a small human boy. The boy is short and wirey, not quiet ready for his final growth spurt. He flushes and looks up at Crawly with wide eyes, excited and a little nervous. Crawly stops breathing. Divinity rolls off him in waves, fouling up the whole street and possibly beyond.

“Haven’t your parents taught you it’s rude to run into people?” Crawly asks the Messiah. He tries not to fidget. This may be the King of Kings, but no self respecting demon would get caught dead fidgeting at the presence of a small child. “Where are they, anyway?”

The boy looks up at Crawly sheepishly. “Probably heading home. They had to go back, but I wanted to spend more time at the temple. I snuck away.”

Demons do not endorse visits to holy spaces. They can’t go inside and spread their demonic influence. However, demons also wholly endorse breaking the Ten Commandments, and “honour thy father and thy mother” is one of those.

The kid is a natural. Crawly thinks it is rather clever, pitting various demonic goals against each other. Maybe that is how the Messiah will Save the world. Get the demons too busy arguing over the finer points of their infernal calling and downstairs will be much too busy hosting theological debates to actually do any evil.*

*One day Crowley will watch Christians quibble over doctrine until they fracture into hundreds of insignificant little branches and laugh at the irony.

Another demon might have just assassinated (or at least attempted to) the Messiah right there in the street, before the boy can come into his full power. Crawly does not do this because:

  1. He likes young humans the best. They are too young to have learned to be high and mighty about good and evil.

  2. If the boy survives He will get a good old fashioned scolding from his parents. It amuses Crawly to think of the Son of God getting told off by His very human parents.

  3. He does not think he would survive such an endeavor, and then who would Aziraphale go to lunch with?




“Tell you what, I was heading to the temple,” Crawly tells the Prince of Peace. “You can follow me.”

The boy frowns. “I know you weren’t heading to the temple. You can just point the right way and I’ll leave you alone.”

Right. Son of God. Of course he has a built in lie detector. It’s probably a defense mechanism, like when deer freeze because they think it makes them blend in with the trees better.

“No, it’s alright. I’m meeting a friend, but he’ll understand if I’m a bit late.” Crawly whirls around and begins the march to the temple. “A boy of your age really shouldn’t be out in the city alone. Come along.”

“Thank you, sir,” the Messiah trails behind him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just try to keep up.” Crawly elbows people out of his way as he goes. Inspiring vague annoyance in strangers is a good way to spread evil. All that directionless anger at a nameless stranger will build up and sooner or later explode. Surely it will be enough to counterbalance the effects of helping out the Messiah.


	3. Matthew 4: 8 – 9

_8 Again, the devil taketh him up into an exceeding high mountain, and sheweth him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them;_

_9 And saith unto him, All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me._

* * *

Crawly has his orders. He is to seek out the Messiah and tempt him on behalf of Satan. Word has gotten out that the Messiah is doing some soul searching or something. Even the angels are keeping out of His way at the moment. Hell thinks this is the perfect opening for them to take a shot at the Son of God.

Crawly thinks this is a waste of time. The Messiah is too strong to be tempted by even the most powerful of Hell’s denizens, much less Crawly, whose reputation relies more on taking credit for atrocities the humans thought up themselves and lying to Hell about it. Plagiarism is Crawly’s demonic strong suit. Actual work is not.

He had plans with Aziraphale. They were going to have lunch, followed by drinks back at Crawly’s current residence. Crawly has a new vintage from Rome, and it only seems right to open it with the only other immortal who shares his appreciation of fine wines.

It would have been pleasant. Instead, he sends his apologies to Aziraphale and gets to work.

He finds Jesus sitting out in the desert looking parched and very, very hungry.

“Hello there,” Crawly greets. Just because he’s a demon doesn’t mean he can’t be polite. In fact, he would rather not find out what kind of wrath he’d incur for being rude to God’s only begotten Son. “What are you doing all the way out here? Didn’t upstairs send you to spread the Good Word or whatever it is you lot call it?”

“I’ve been called to wander here until the time is right.” Jesus looks at Crawly with sunken eyes. Crawly finds this quite concerning. Jesus is God made flesh, but that is why he is concerned. After four thousand years, Crawly is quite familiar with the limitations of the human body. If Jesus isn’t careful, he will starve to death.

Maybe he doesn’t know. Aziraphale likes to eat, but angels don’t strictly need to. Gabriel and Michael never do.* Maybe Jesus just hangs around angels too much and forgot that He is technically human at the moment.

*Crawly only knows this because Aziraphale often laments about it when they dine together.

“You’re looking a bit peckish. Would you like a bite to eat?” Crawly miracles some bread and cheese, along with a nice Roman wine Aziraphale is fond of.

Jesus, to His credit, is very polite about the whole thing. “That’s kind of you, Serpent, but no thank you. The Savior can’t go around accepting meals from demons.”

“Very well,” Crawly banishes the food to a place where it will stay fresh until he runs into Aziraphale again. They can have a picnic. “You can call me Crawly, by the way.” He figures it is best not to get on God’s bad side more than he already has.

“That’s hardly a name,” Jesus says.

“Sure it is,” Crawly retorts. “Satan gave it to me just after we – er – _landed_.”

“It’s not. It’s like if people went around only calling me the Messiah. It’s true, but that’s just a descriptor. I’ve got a name.”

“Well what would you suggest, then?”

“Why not David, or John, or Giacomo?”

“No.”

“I don’t see why not. Those are all perfectly good names.”

“Are not.”

“I am the Messiah. If I say they are perfectly good names then they are.”

“Well, if you’re so powerful, why not miracle yourself a snack?” Crawly retorts. He picks a rock up and tosses it over. “This would make a nice loaf of bread, don’t you think?”

The rock lands in the dirt with a dull thud.

Jesus glares. He is gaunt, hunched over from starvation but without fear as he holds his own against the author of the Original Sin.

Crawly remembers the boy He used to be, eyes alight with mischief and wonder, high on the rush of being alone and free in Jerusalem at Passover for the first time. It’s been barely twenty years, but it may as well have been a different world. Here is the glorious, long-awaited Messiah after four thousand years, and the world has ground him down to this exhausted mortal existence like it does all the rest of them.

“Look, those names are fine,” Crawly relents, “but they aren’t for me. All my friends* know me as Crawly, and they’ve known me as Crawly for much longer than you’ve been alive. It would be weird to change it now.”

*By friends, he means Aziraphale, but Aziraphale doesn’t need to know that.

Jesus nods dully, the short conversation seems to have already sapped him of what little strength he had.

“Right, well, c’mon,” Crawly latches onto Jesus’ arm and gingerly pulls him to his feet. “We’re going on a little trip.”

“Hm?” Jesus leans heavily against Crawly.

“Oh for God’s sake.” Crawly hauls Jesus over his shoulder in what will one day be known as a fireman’s lift.

* * *

Crawly’s instructions are to offer the Messiah all the kingdoms of the world in exchange for His allegiance to Satan. He could do it right there in the desert and get it over with, but if this is Crawly’s only shot at tempting the Messiah he’s going to do it with style.

He miracles them to the top of a mountain and shows Jesus all the kingdoms of the world. He shows Him all his favorite wonders of the world, the pyramids in Egypt and the Great Wall in China and the Library of Alexandria (Aziraphale’s favorite) and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon (Crawly’s favorite).

He finds himself showing Jesus all those little places that fill him with delight, the things that make him love this world better than he remembers loving Heaven. He shows off all those decoy tunnels in the pyramids. He had been so proud of the Egyptians for coming up with that idea on their own. He shows off Aziraphale’s favorite corner the Library, where he has spent many an afternoon sharing tea while the angel delighted in every new tome he read. He shows off Rome and that street Aziraphale loves with all the interesting restaurants everywhere. He shows off his favorite spot on the Great Wall, where he once posed as a guard so he’d have a quiet place to play around with the locals’ best invention, fireworks.

Crawly shows off all of it. He feels more like a tour guide than a demon. After four thousand years of living among humans, Crawly takes pride in showing the Prince of Peace how amazing humans are, and how their imperfections only make them that much more so.

* * *

If he were a better demon, Crawly would leave Jesus at the top of the mountain to find His own way back. Or he could have dragged Him down, making sure to prick his skin on as many brambles as possible while the ground rubbed His back raw and the sun baked His skin.

Instead, Crawly helps Jesus to his feet and let’s the Messiah lean on his shoulder. Crawly can’t miracle them down. There’s no way he can explain this to Beezlebub if she bothers to check his paperwork, so they go down the mortal way. It’s slow going. They have to stop to rest when Jesus can go no farther.

They walk in silence. What is there to say? Crawly’s done his business. There’s no reason for them to strike up a conversation now. Jesus looks too weak to talk anyway.

Crawly calls for another break in the late afternoon, when the sun is still reaching for the horizon. Crawly finds a stream and convinces Jesus to take a break on the river’s bank. Crawly brings Jesus some water in a conjured flask and watches as He drinks his fill with trembling hands. There are some berries growing on a tree nearby, so Crawly picks some and brings those as well.

“You’ve passed your test. Now eat,” Crawly insists. He shoves the berries in Jesus’s hands. “Grown as God intended, no demonic intervention. And freshly picked.”

Jesus nibbles slowly at the berries. Crawly pops a couple in his mouth too, just for something to do.

“Crowley.” It’s so soft Crawly isn’t sure he didn’t imagine it.

“What?”

“What about Crowley? For a name? It’s a real name, but not too far from the old one.”

It’s a human name, Crowley. Nothing particularly demonic about it, but far less angelic that he would expect from the Messiah. It settles over him like the night sky, a solitary comfort filled with the distant relics of an even more distant past twinkling above.

“It’s not horrible,” he concedes. “Maybe I’ll give it a try, just to see.”

Jesus smiles wearily and it’s brighter than the first blinding burst of a newborn star.

It takes the rest of the day and the one that follows to get back. Luckily, the base of the mountain is closer to town than the desert was.

There are two angels waiting when they finally make it. Aziraphale shrinks as much as he can from Gabriel without actually moving away, aggressively not looking at his occasional lunch date. The angels greet Jesus warmly and miracle him proper clothes and more food and water, ready to tend to their King’s every need.

Crowley watches them go and slithers off.


	4. John 20: 11 – 12

_11 But Mary stood without at the sepulchre weeping: and as she wept, she stooped down, and looked into the sepulchre,_

_12 And seeth two angels in white sitting, the one at the head, and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain._

* * *

He tries out the new name during the horror of all that Crucifixion business. It’s the least he can do as he watches the Jesus die a slow, agonizing death at the hands of the people he was sent to save.

He watches the whole sorry mess come to an end alongside Aziraphale, the only angel to bother showing up to the gruesome death of God’s Son.

Crowley won’t admit this to anyone – except maybe God* – but he thinks Jesus did really excellent work. Oh, it was a problem for Crowley and his side, but in all his centuries on Earth, Jesus was the first agent of Heaven or Hell as innovative Crowley. Yes, He did the traditional healings for appearances’ sake, but He did so much more. Dining with tax collectors and prostitutes, spreading His message to the world through speeches and publicity stunts. Not to mention turning water into wine for His first miracle, the kind of frivolous thing that Aziraphale would have been reprimanded for. The Messiah had turned out to be not all that bad after all.

*only because he knows She never listens to him anymore

What a waste this whole thing has been for everyone. Thirty years of sulking around this one little country, squished in with other angels and demons alike who sulked even more, meddling in as many ways as they could all get away with,* and it ends like this, on a lonely hilltop.

*Crowley almost feels sorry for Jesus. Demons can be bloody annoying, and angels are always overbearing. It must have been frustrating to be the Messiah when everyone kept trying to get in his way. Crowley makes a mental note to mention it to Beezelbub next time he is Downstairs. When the time comes for the Antichrist, the considerate thing to do would be to give the man some sort of camouflage so he can go about his job without anyone botching it for him.

Aziraphale likes the new name, though, so it’s staying.

* * *

Three days after he watches the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth, Crowley stumbles upon Aziraphale quite by accident while out on a morning stroll.

Decades, even centuries, pass between his meetings with his favorite angel. Even these past three decades, with both of them lurking in the same region, they rarely meet more than once every few months. Yet here is Aziraphale, twice in one week! Why hasn’t he been assigned a new station, now that the most pressing reason for all the angelic and demonic activity in the area is dead?

As long as he’s here –

“Hi Aziraphale!” Crowley chirps. “Fancy meeting you out here.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale huffs. He’s at the mouth of a cave, slumped against a boulder and drenched in sweat. “Good morning?”

“You all right there, angel?” Crowley asks. “Want to go for a drink? You look like you could use one.”

“No thank you, my dear. I’ve been stationed here all day to spread the Good News.”

“Good News?”

“Yes, well, I suppose you wouldn’t have heard by now, would you?”

 _What Good News?_ Crowley is about to ask, but he pauses when he hears a choked sob.

They both turn just in time to see a woman running off.

It’s then that Crowley realizes that the cave is definitely the kind of tomb that’s in style right now. Angelic Good News and a tomb?

“Angel, if this is the Messiah’s funeral I think I’ll be off now. Quite morbid, turning His death into a celebration, but I suppose with the right marketing strategies your side will be able to salvage the situation.” Crowley starts backing away. “Frankly, this is sloppy work on Heaven’s part. It’s already been three days!”

Aziraphale smiles warmly. “It’s not a funeral.” He hops up on the stone and pats the space next to him. “Do stay. I’m sure your side will give you a commendation for being the first to bring the News to them.”

This is certainly a bad idea, but Crowley has always enjoyed bad ideas and he does want to know what all the fuss is about. He perches next to Aziraphale on the stone and lets the angel explain what all of the fuss in about.

* * *

Crowley knows that it’s problematic for him to like the Messiah. He could get into real trouble if anyone finds out, but he can’t help it. Jesus looks Mary in the eye as He watches her grieve His death and does nothing. He has always been a little shit, and he looks ridiculous in his expertly tailored, spotless gardener’s get up.

Jesus waits until Mary’s tears have subsided a bit before making His big reveal. He’s a real showman about it, too. He removes His hat with a flourish and Crowley feels a spark of divine energy when He spreads his arms out and declares Himself the object of Mary’s grief. He’s quite the showman when He wants to be.

The point is, He absolutely deserves it when Mary slaps Him across the face. It’s not a playful slap, either. Jesus is going to wear Mary’s hand print for at least a few days. She slaps Him again, so at least He’ll have a matching print on the other cheek* and yells at Him some. She’s crying again, wet, heaving gasps interspersed with enough curse words to impress a demon.

*Crowley wonders if Jesus is rethinking all that “turn the other cheek” stuff now.

Aziraphale shifts. “Maybe we should –”

“Nah, this is human business. Emotions and stuff. Best let them have it out now, before anyone can build up resentments.” Crowley grabs Aziraphale’s wrist and tugs, so Aziraphale plops back down on the boulder.

The humans have some more emotions, which mostly involves Mary telling Jesus off and exactly how much of a prick she thinks He is while He stands there and takes it. It’s horribly sacrilegious stuff to say to the Son of God, but it’s perfectly acceptable stuff to say to a friend who is utterly failing to be a good one.

After a bit, the anger burns away. Mary cries harder and hugs Jesus like her embrace will chase His death away. Jesus hugs her back, not a stoic I’m-the-Messiah-offering-you-divine-compassion hug, but an equally weepy I’ve-been-a-rubbish-friend-and-I’m-so-sorry-please- forgive-me hug.

The Lamb of God clings to His friend and begs for forgiveness.

* * *

Eventually the weepy humans get a little less weepy. They pull apart for a moment, link arms, and leave the garden together. Off to spread God’s message or start a revolution or calling it a day and retiring to a farm to raise sheep together. Death has been conquered. It’s a new world now. Anything is possible.

Aziraphale and Crowley are left behind, watching the humans walk away, perched on a stone that’s not quite a wall but close enough. Does Aziraphale feel the echoes of that ancient day, too?

“A bit callous, don’t you think?” Crowley muses.

“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” Aziraphale says.

Crowley doesn’t bother to suppress his eye roll. It’s not like Aziraphale can see it behind the sunglasses anyway. “I’m just saying, she’s been mourning Him for three days. He just let her go on about how sad she was and then ‘Surprise! I’m not dead!’ He didn’t have to be so insensitive.”

“I suppose so. But they seemed to have worked it out!” Leave it to Aziraphale to look on the bright side of everything.

“Do you think He’ll still want to save the world after all this? Even after His own people called for Him to be crucified? He maybe he God’s Son, but He’s still human. You know how petty they can be.”

“Oh, I expect so. She did bring Him back to life. I doubt She would have if She didn’t think He wouldn’t continue His mission.”

“Hmph. Well I won’t blame Him if He decides to grab His friends and bugger off to China.”

Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “I can’t say I would either.”

Bugger. Now he’s gone and made Aziraphale gloomy. He can’t leave it at that.

“Fancy a bite to eat? I bet the Chinese have invented loads of new dishes while we’ve been stuck over here.”

Aziraphale perks up. “That sounds lovely, my dear.”

Aziraphale beams, and Crowley knows that whatever this new world has in store for them, it’s going to be brilliant.


End file.
